After an amazing three weeks in Thailand and Cambodia, I returned with a souvenir:  dengue fever. 

I rarely get sick. 

This sick was serious business.  Two trips to Urgent Care, one trip to Infectious Disease, 2 chest x-rays, 12 vials of blood for various tests, two shots of pain meds, 1 round of Cipro, and 1 anti-parasitic med for good measure.  My husband missed work to care for me.  My mother-in-law and mom missed work to care for my girls.  It was a blast. 

The worst part:  I missed a birth.  My first one since I began as a doula six years ago.  I’m ever grateful to Laura Curry for rushing out at 1:30am to care for my client.  But I’m still dealing with this very uncomfortable territory. 

So what was dengue like?  Well, I understand why it is called breakbone fever.  It truly feels like your bones are being pulled apart.  I read that it was also called “dandy fever” because slaves who were forced to keep working when they had dengue, walked like a “dandy.”  I get that, too.  There were times when all I could do was writhe my hips constantly.  It reminded me of the way women rock their hips during birth.  On top of the fever and bone aches, my skin crawled.  Sometimes it felt like ants were biting me.  And I had trouble breathing because of the pain in my chest.  Plus I was a tad panicky since all sorts of bad things *can* happen with dengue.     

At least I wasn’t contagious.  Unless the rogue mosquito that infected me hitched a ride home.

Then, after the worst was past, I spent a week with low-grade fevers and what looked like (on the chest x-ray) pneumonia.  Several breathing spasms landed me with an inhaler.  That really stumped the Infectious Disease doctor since pneumonia is not a typical secondary problem with dengue.  Who knows?  But it seems to be better.  I seem to be better.

Which means, I will be blogging again.  I have several posts planned about my trip so I will detour from birthy/parenting topics for a bit and share some about travel with kids, the tooth fairy in Thailand, human trafficking, and the amazing Slagels. 

Right after I prepare for the class I’m teaching tomorrow night…

Now it is here.  A natural parenting store.  In our town.  And it opens this week!

Come out of your hiding holes on Black Friday (or am I the only one who hides on Black Friday?) and visit Natural Baby between 10am and 6pm.  There will be giveaways!  And deals!  And lovely things to buy.  Things that are carefully crafted and sustainable.  Things that are fairly traded.  Things that are reusable (cloth diapers!).  Things that are locally made.

Come and see!

And while you’re visiting, tell Ady, the wonderful mama behind this project, how excited you are.  And give her your ideas for products to stock, free classes to offer, or ways to promote the store.

This is not simply another store.  It is an opportunity to impact parenting choices and support families in making mindful choices.  Ady wants the store to belong to the community–a place you can drop in to nurse a baby or let your toddler play while you catch your breath.  A place for gatherings like the monthly Babywearing group or LLL.  It is the new home of Upstate BirthNetwork.  Have I told you yet of this project?  Soon I will. 

I’ll be teaching a free Cloth Diapering 101 class on Dec. 11 at 2pm.  And the monthly Babywearing group will meet Dec. 9 at 6pm. 

Find Natural Baby via their website or on facebook.  And find it on Black Friday!

Carey and I are pooped.  Many, many births and many, many long nights clustered together = a much needed Saturday break.

We’ll see you all in October with a fabulous speaker and incredible birth story!

It is not me.  It is a tiny piece of me that I filter and invite the world to see.  I do share some transparent stories.  But I don’t generally post photos of my dirty laundry or peanut-butter smeared windows.  You don’t know me just from reading this constructed mask of me. 

So may I be honest for a moment?

I have judged other mamas.  I have judged them, found them wanting, and dismissed them.  I have not always assigned positive intent.  I have made assumptions about parents based on their kid’s behavior.  Or what their kids were eating.  Or how their kids dressed.

For these actions, I am ashamed.

And I never want to make another mama feel shamed or dismissed. 

And there is a very precise hurt that comes when someone judges you by the behavior of your children.  Ask me how I know.

I remember being in a group that started attacking formula feeding.  As I looked around the room, I saw the non-lactating mamas look uncomfortable.  And I was so uncomfortable that I went to the car to feed Cedar her bottle of donated breastmilk.  I wonder if any of those mamas ever went back. 

Mamas, can we be gentle with each other?  Can we give grace?  When I see a mom melt down and yell at her kids, can I assign positive intent?  I have no idea what her day has been like.  Am I any better for waiting to yell at my kids when no one can hear me?  Am I any better for blogging mostly about my successes?

The parenting we do in public is only a tiny picture of the huge work done behind the scene.

I’ve worked in difficult careers.  Non-profit, ministry, corporate, education, and now birthwork.  None of it.  None of it compares to the difficult job of parenting.  Can we cut each other some slack?  

Please note peanut-butter smeared windows and screaming child.  And the blurred glimpse of a terribly flawed mama in the glass.

To me, this is what support looks like at a birth.  The dad providing counterpressure.  The doula supporting the mom’s squatting position.  The midwife a reassuring presence.  I love her hand on Noelle’s head. 

The transition into pushing is an intense time.  The body is releasing adrenaline and mom’s “thinking brain” has shut down.  She is fully immersed in the sensations.  It can be a vulnerable time and one that is often abused by caregivers who are uncomfortable with the power of it. 

This is not a time for loud noises or flurried activity.  This is not a time for bright lights.  This is not a time for medication or the offering of medication.  This is not a time for instruction or cheerleading. 

This is a time for calm reassurance and gentle hands on support.  If the mom asks for help, offer it in a way that bolsters her trust in her ability to birth.   I quietly whisper to women words like “your body is designed to do this” and “you are bringing your baby down.”  I remind them to take it slow, there is no rush.  I remind them that they are not breaking; not damaging themselves.  They are stretching and opening. 

Sounds of power from the mom.  Croons and murmurs from the support team.  A cry of awakening from the newly born.

At a homebirth, we ran out of ice so I threw a bag of frozen tater tots on the mama’s chest.

By the glow of lamplight, I watched a midwife “dirty dance” with a laboring woman.  Très romantique.  Ladies, you know who you are. 

I got peed on.  Twice.  At the same birth.  On the same foot.

I heard a woman say “schrikeys” during her most intense contractions.  Not sure how that is spelled.

Highpoints

I was witness to a homebirth VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean).

I threw a chux pad under a woman who gave birth standing up in a hospital bathroom.

Along with Carey, I started an upstate chapter of the nonprofit BirthNetwork (more to come on that!).

No cesareans, pain medications, or chemical inductions for any clients or students this year.

Lowpoints

I continue to confuse terminology between hypnobabies students/clients and non-hypno clients. 

Through a weird twist, I ended up with my 5 month old at a homebirth.  Had to wrap her on my back and rely heavily on the midwife assistant to doula for my client.

I turned away more women than I was able to serve.

A former client took her own life 9 months postpartum.  If you know someone struggling with postpartum depression or postpartum psychosis, please encourage them to get help.  We have a wonderful postpartum support group that meets monthly and can provide the resources for help that might be needed.

Wonder what the rest of the year has in store…

Norah on her future career:

Me:  What are you drawing?

Norah:  It is a picture of what I want to be when I grow up.  I’m standing on a stage telling people how to have babies.

Scott:  That is called a soapbox. 

Me:  She is indeed my child. 

Norah on Noelle’s upcoming birth:

Norah:  I’m going to be the third person to hold baby Asher. 

Me:  Who is first?

Norah:  Uncle Zach.

Me:  You don’t think Aunt Noelle should be first?

Norah:  No, silly mama, Uncle Zach gets the baby out and then hands him to Aunt Noelle.  She feeds him.  And then it is my turn to hold him. 

Norah on her own birth one day:

Norah:  I sure hope you’re there with me, mama.  And I want Aunt Noelle to give me cups of ice water.  And I want my birth tub to be purple. 

After a playdate (with the midwife’s daughters):

Norah (whining):  Mama, it was my turn to have a baby but Tallulah wouldn’t let me.

Me:  Why wouldn’t Tallulah let you?

Norah:  Cause she said Clem had to nurse the baby before it could be born again.

I might make a few (without any oj or nectar) for Cedar to suck on.  Catnip is reputed to help with teething.  And teething is the preoccupation these days.  And nights.

I thought this might be a nice treat before bed.  Norah gets so wound up in the evenings when daddy comes home.  Her body flails like a fish knocking over any object that isn’t nailed down.  Catnip = mellow.   

And speaking of knocking things down–

Norah is clumsy with her body these days.  Full of cooped-up-winter energy.  I won’t name everything she has dropped or spilled this morning.  Just before I wrote this, she spilled a cup of milk.  My first instinct was righteous indignation.  You know, the exasperated mom voice.  The drawn out “norahhhhh” with a trace of adult whine. 

Then I remembered my own spills when I was a kid.  Whenever I broke something (and later, when I got a speeding ticket or two), my parents reacted with patience and kindness.  My memory of it is something of kinship.  My mom saying something like “we all drop things sometimes” or “I got a speeding ticket once and…”  It checked me today.  As it has other days. 

Thanks mom and dad for providing a pattern of grace and gentleness for this flailing-like-a-fish mama to follow. 

Aren’t these the coolest popsicle molds?  Norah’s great grandparents gave her these for Christmas.  Adorable no-spill (very important) ring pops.

Craft Shelf:  I have a shelf in the hall closet that is dedicated to crafts.  There are shoebox sized containers holding strings for necklaces, paints, glitter, glue, homemade play dough, popsicle sticks, floral foam, etc.  I also keep several old sheets and blankets to cover the floor for quick clean-up.  I keep activities simple.  Lately we’ve been enjoying leaf rubbings.  Norah also loves to thread uncooked ziti noodles on string.  And she loves to cut things with plastic knifes.  So sometimes I give her a knife with a few fruits/veggies and bread/cheese.  She’s also enjoyed building structures with (just a few) large marshmallows and uncooked spaghetti noodles.  I’m not very crafty so I often just throw down some supplies and see what she creates. 

The Dollhouse:  Our best investment (and gifts from grandmas) has been the dollhouse and accessories.  I’m watching her play with it now.  We chose Plan Toys  dollhouse and accessories.  Norah spends the bulk of her time playing here. 

Pretend Play:  I keep a mason jar and a clear plastic egg carton filled with assorted objects.  Buttons, leather pieces, marbles, shells, acorns, etc.  I’m amazed at some of the ways she plays with these.  And she loves to sort them.  We also have a bin of dress-up clothes. 

Dinosaurs:  A hand-me-down from cousin Taylor, the dinosaur collection is another big item in our home. 

Green Hour:  Although I’ve slacked off some since Cedar was born, we typically have a green hour every day (rain or shine) during which Norah explores the outdoors.  She can make bug houses from leaves and sticks, make “dinner,” or simply make a mess.  She especially loves green hour when it is raining because she gets to carry an umbrella.

Tips:

We have a small house.  I use lots of baskets to keep things sorted properly.  If toys are strewn about, then the “Toy Fairy’s” phone number is programmed in my cell phone.  Or at least that is what Norah believes.  I’ve never had to call the Toy Fairy but according to some moms, she will come pick up the toys and take them away if she is called.  There is an equally effective “Clothes Fairy.”    

I’ve noticed that it takes some time for Norah to begin playing with things that I introduce.  It probably took 6 months for her to even notice her dollhouse. 

I find dress-up clothes at thrift stores.

For toys that she loses interest in quickly, I put away and reintroduce later.  When she’s bored with it, I put it away once again.

For the most part, I turn my head when she decides to use household objects as play items.  I’ve lost almost all of my kitchen towels to her play baskets.  She loves to sneak away with belts, shoes, tape measures, cookie cutters, etc.  If I need something, I usually know where to find it.

Finally, we’re pretty careful about toy volume.  I generally try to avoid plastics and I like to know that toys are not made in sweatshops.  We keep an amazon wishlist so extended family know what we think would fit in our home and in Norah’s days.  If it requires batteries, it usually stays at grandma’s house. 

What toys do your toddlers and preschoolers love?  What works for your family?